Searching for Hope
by AzureSkye23
Summary: Gilraen knows her son is in danger, with all her mother's intuition and the foresight of her line. When Elladan and Elrohir come saying their father feels the same, she, the twins, and Glorfindel set out to find Estel. AU, set in the 'Thorongil' years.
1. Prologue

One, two, three, four, five. One, two, three, four, five. Why did she always pace in five steps? Gilraen wondered. One, two, three, four, five. Was it because it was the space she had available? But even when she had more space, it was always the same. One, two, three, four, five. Or was it just that Númenóreans did everything in fives? Gilraen thought with a brief flash of humor. Five point island, five point attack, five point star.

She shook off these thoughts and looked south again, stilling her feet reluctantly. It was unbecoming for a lady, her mother had always told her, and even more for the dowager chieftainess, who nominally held the position of leadership alongside her cousin while her son was away.

But still! She had never been able to control her feet, Gilraen fumed as she resumed pacing, when Estel was hurt or in danger. Her pacing had been legendary in Rivendell. There had been soft jests that she was going to wear a groove in the floor just outside the healing wing, which was as much an acknowledgment of Estel's almost unparalleled abilities to get himself into trouble as it was of her constant pacing when he _was_ doing something stupid.

Of course, there was nothing that physically told her he was in trouble. Nothing but the choking dread and darkness that enveloped her every time she thought of her son, the same despair that had been haunting her waking moments and her dreams for the past three days, she thought sarcastically. Something was wrong. Or, Gilraen amended, something was _going_ to be wrong.

Her line was strongly blessed with the foresight of her kindred. And right now, all her senses were screaming that her son was going to be in danger, she needed to find him, she needed to help him, he was going to be in danger-

She stopped that train of thought with a sharp exhale. Yes, Aragorn was going to be in danger. A good deal of danger. Yet there was nothing she could do. Nothing but pace…

"Lady Gilraen! Lady Gilraen!" A messenger boy, no older than thirteen, ran up to her, panting slightly. "The Rangers say there are horsemen approaching."

Gilraen raised an eyebrow. It was unusual that they would inform her of such a thing. "Alright lad," she said simply, "I'm coming." She followed the boy at a more stately pace. It wouldn't do for a lady of her stature to be seen running…Unless she wanted to start a panic, that is. Although she would find it amusing, it would not be fair to the others in the settlement.

She reached the way station, hidden among the trees at the top of the rise. Across the gently rolling hills three horses were approaching. Two dark, one white. The riders were the same, two dark, one gleaming gold. Though too far away to make out details, the breeze was blowing towards them, and on it Gilraen could faintly hear bells ringing.

She nodded her head sharply. "It's elves," she said bluntly. The ranger in charge of the station eyed her.

"You're certain?" he asked.

"Listen," she said impatiently. "Do you hear the bells? The only one I've ever met or heard of who has bells on his or her tack is Lord Glorfindel. Three riders, one golden, two dark. It's Elladan, Elrohir, and Glorfindel," she said crisply. "Please inform them I am delighted to receive them." With that she turned and headed back to the village, the Rangers looking sheepishly after her.

Half a mark later, Gilraen heard the bells again. She'd prepared places for the elves to stay, the twins in the old master bedroom she hadn't slept in since her husband's death, and the guest room for Glorfindel. She still slept in her son's room, as she always did when he was gone. She supposed when he returned for good she'd have to take the guest room. Of course, if he found a woman he wished to court, he would move to that village.

It was an old tradition, that the Chieftains would move to the village of their bride. It helped protect the line of Kings, as every generation the heir moved to a new place. If the bride was from the same village, the couple would move to a new village, for the same reason. If the enemy found one Heir of Isildur, it was hoped that the younger one would be in a different place. The most vulnerable years, of course, were traditionally spent in Imladris, protected. Aragorn had done that, but much earlier than expected, when the ancient protections for the line of Kings had failed.

Gilraen pulled her thoughts from the loss of her father-in-law and her husband within two years of each other, and the thoughts that she could now loose her son, when three horses came into view.

They were powerful, noble beasts with clean lines. Still, Gilraen paid them no heed, focusing instead on the elves that rode them.

"Elrohir, Elladan, Glorfindel, what brings you to this corner of the world?" she asked, a small smile gracing her face. "It is good to see you again."

Glorfindel smiled. "It is good to see you again also, My Lady." His smile fell. "Unfortunately, we are not here just for pleasant conversation."

"We have come on behalf of our Adar," Elladan said. Gilraen frowned.

"He needs something from the Dúnedain?" she asked, confused.

"No, the other way around," Elrohir answered. Her frowned deepened.

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"About a week ago, Adar began having flashes of foresight-" Elladan began.

"Estel." Gilraen breathed, cutting him off. The elves frowned.

"Have you been having premonitions as well?" Glorfindel asked her. She nodded.

"I haven't been able to do anything but pace for the last three days," she told them. Small grins appeared. She huffed.

"Yes, I'm well aware that I always pace when Estel's in danger." The light teasing moment passed.

"You're certain." Elrohir's voice was flat.

"Absolutely." Gilraen's voice was absolute. "For the past three days I have known Estel is going to be in danger."

Elladan exhaled slowly, nodded. "If you will allow us to stay the night, Gilraen, then tomorrow we will go looking for him," he said, indicating the three elves.

"You are welcome to stay the night; the rooms are already prepared. Tomorrow_ we_," Here she indicated all four of them. "shall go find my son."

"Gilraen, it's too dangerous-"

"Your people need you-"

"My Lady-"

Gilraen ignored the twins, and looked straight at Glorfindel.

"He is my son," she said simply. Glorfindel looked conflicted for a moment, then nodded slowly. Battle won, she turned to the twins.

"First, it will not be too dangerous if I'm traveling with you three. Second, my cousin is perfectly capable of leading my people; I find I am just a formality. I'm coming with you."

They reluctantly nodded, realizing they weren't going to change her mind now that their Captain had agreed with her. She ushered them inside, but couldn't resist one last look at the southern horizon. Oh, Estel. Gilraen thought. Where are you?

* * *

><p><strong>Yup, new story. This is an AU, but it's still mostly canon, more of a "what if" as I've heard them termed. I can't write on demand, so this will have an irregular update schedule. Sorry. <strong>


	2. The Journey South

Gilraen was wet. Very, very wet. And annoyed. Very, very annoyed. She was fairly certain she'd done nothing to displease Manwë or Ulmo, and so why they had decided to have nearly constant rain showers in this part of Arda was beyond her.

The worst part-to her-was that the elves she was traveling with didn't seemed to be bothered by the constant damp. She had always written off Estel's complaints of patrolling with elves in inclement weather as more of a complaint about the weather. Now she understood, and the fact that they were so unfailingly polite and helpful made it so she couldn't even take out her frustration on them!

Idly she wondered if she could get annoyed with them on the basis of them not giving her a reason to be annoyed with them. Recognizing the convoluted, not to mention ironic, reasoning that thought followed, she reluctantly surveyed her surroundings. Wet, she decided. The middle of the Bruinen might be dryer.

"We will reach Tharbad tomorrow." A soft voice broke in Gilraen's musings. "We must decide our route beyond that."

Deciding to never travel again when she got home, Gilraen turned her attention back to her companions.

"I admit to not knowing this area from anything other than maps," Gilraen began, "But isn't it simply taking the road south to the fords of Isen, then southeast to Edoras?"

Elrohir nodded. "If we were certain the road was safe, that is precisely what we would do," he explained.

"But there is no order or rule beyond Tharbad until Rohan," Elladan cut in. "Wandering down the road in full daylight would be an invitation to be attacked by robbers or slavers in Dunland."

"So we either travel at night, or leave the road and take our chances in the wild," Glorfindel said.

"The road is pitted and cracked, traveling at night would risk the horses," Elrohir protested immediately.

"Would traveling though the wild be any safer?" Gilraen asked. "It seems to me that we'd be more at risk running across a camp of those robbers or slavers you seem so concerned about. Not to mention the bells," she said, looking at Glorfindel. He smiled, slightly amused.

"They have an old legend of creatures who come out only at night," he explained. "They are heralded by bells, and they drag unwary travelers to their lair and eat them. Most will flee the sound of bells, especially at night."

Elladan laughed. "Then it seems we shall travel at night!" he said. "The only question is, do we travel on the road or not?"

Gilraen turned to Elrohir. "Is it truly dangerous for the horses to take the road at night?" she asked. He frowned.

"It would be a trade off of safety for speed," he explained. "To go any faster than a walk would be dangerous. But then, that would be true on almost any terrain. If you were to miss a hole in the ground, your horse would likely break a leg. However, if you were to give the horse its head, and let it pick its own path at its own pace, it would only have a negligible risk."

Gilraen nodded, exhaling. "I would prefer the road," she said slowly. "I have had enough of traveling across country."

Glorfindel nodded. "Then we shall cross the Gwathló tomorrow before sunset and be on our way down the North-South road."

That decided, they settled the watches as a light rain began falling. More rain! Gilraen mentally growled. Will it never end?

0.0.0

"We should wait until morning to cross."

"I'm not waiting until morning! Once we cross the fords we are in Rohan, and that much closer to finding Estel! It is only a few hours past midnight, and the moon is bright. There is no danger."

"And if we run into a Rohirric patrol?"

"All the better! They might have a fire."

"And when they arrest us? What then?"

"They will do no such thing. We will tell them the truth, that we are travelers heading for Edoras, traveling by night for protection against Dunlendings. Besides, when they figure out the three of you are elves, they'll be too awestruck to argue."

Glorfindel and Elrohir exchanged humorous glances as Gilraen and Elladan argued. Finally, Gilraen had enough. Spurring her horse forward, she headed for the ford.

"Gilraen!" Elladan hissed after her. She ignored him. Grinning broadly now, Glorfindel and Elrohir followed, with a disgruntled Elladan bringing up the rear.

Despite the rains to the North, the fords were relatively low, and Gilraen was able to guide her mare across without difficulty. On the far bank, she halted and waited for the others to catch up.

They did so quickly, Elladan shooting her scathing glares that she ignored with practiced grace. Once her grief had abated somewhat, the elves of Rivendell quickly learned that this mortal had a will of her own, and wasn't above simply ignoring the advice of others.

"Halt! Who rides in Rohan?" the call rang strong. Gilraen danced her horse around and urged it forward a few paces.

"I am Gilraen," she replied. "and this is my escort. We are heading for Edoras."

The dark shadow of a man on horseback detached itself from the gloom and moved forward slightly. "And what business do honest travelers have sneaking around at night?" he challenged. Gilraen raised her chin in response.

"The business of staying alive and in one piece," she replied dryly. "We are no army to ensure protection in the wilds of Dunland, and so we chose to travel at night to ensure we do not end up as a target for various unsavory characters."

The man seemed to consider this. "If you are as you say, mere travelers, you are fully welcome to share our fire," he finally said. "Tomorrow I will send my cousin's son with you as a guide to Edoras."

Glorfindel moved his powerful stallion up beside Gilraen. "We will accept the offer of sharing your fire gladly," he said acting as head of the escort. "But we cannot accept or decline the offer of an escort until we meet the lad." The Rohir voiced his agreement, and led them to a fire in a secluded dell.

When the elves neared the fire and were recognized, there was a brief flash of tension in the camp, but Gilraen stepped forward with the grace of a diplomat and introduced her companions. The sight of the obviously mortal woman and her ease around the elves quickly dissipated most of the tension, but not all.

Wilfhelm, their escort, quietly pulled Gilraen aside. "You are here on your own volition, are you not?" he asked her, so quiet she could barely hear. She laid a placating hand on his arm.

"I know they are elves, but they have been good friends of mine for many years," she told him, just as quiet. "I trust them with my life." And the life of my son, she inwardly continued. Wilfhelm nodded, reassured, and the rest of the night passed quietly.

The next morning dawned clear and bright. Glorfindel accepted the offer of the escort, a young lad named Herufara. They set out early, Gilraen's impatience driving them. The twins almost immediately sought to put the young mortal at ease, speaking of horses, and the ways of guarding fords. Although it was interesting to hear just how the elves had managed to protect the ford of Bruinen all these long millennia, Gilraen found she couldn't be distracted from her own dark thoughts.

Her son had gotten into some rather spectacular _incidents_, as the twins were inclined to call them. But usually, he had someone else with him, generally elves. Usually, they knew his heritage as well, and quietly watched out for him. Admittedly, some of the times they were in messes so bad that they couldn't protect themselves, let alone anyone else.

But this was different. This time, her son was under a military command, a human commander, who nothing of her son and his destiny. One decision that put her son in a too dangerous situation, 'for the greater good' and all could be lost before it truly began.

Gilraen suddenly wondered at the wisdom of letting him go alone like this. They should have kept him in the North, kept him safe. He was destined to rise above all other kings since Elendil, or fade with the remnant of his people. They had to keep him safe to fulfill his destiny…

Gilraen halted her thoughts. No, they had to let him go, or the odd were he'd never be able to reunite the Númenórean realms. You can't keep him, Gilraen, she told herself firmly. You can't keep him for yourself, no matter how much you wish to. He belongs to more than you. Oh, Elbereth, protect him, she prayed silently. Keep him safe when I cannot.

By the time they reached Edoras, the twins and Herufara were fast friends. Chatting, laughing, they ignored Gilraen and Glorfindel's more serious attitudes. It paid off, as Herufara knew a good deal about Edoras.

"There's a good inn called The Eagle and Child, just off the main thoroughfare," he informed them. "It's a good place, and it will take more…unusual clientele." He blushed. "No offense," he added quickly.

"None taken," Elrohir said amiably. "I am sure we are different from the usual clientele in Edoras."

Finally, after much impatience on Gilraen's part, enthusiasm on Herufara's part, and immortal patience of the part of the elves, the golden roof of Meduseld could be seen. They had finally arrived at Edoras.

* * *

><p><strong>I know, its been a while. School started, so I was packing and moving, and trying to get books and food...Yeah. Hopefully, the next chapter will be quicker, but no promises. For anyone interested, The Eagle and Child is a real place in England, and was the meeting place for the Inklings for years. The Inklings were a Oxford literary group that included both J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. <strong>


	3. Arrival in Edoras

Gilraen was used to people looking at her. It went part and parcel with being the wife of the Heir of Isildur. She had officiated ceremonies with hundreds looking at her. When she had first returned from Imladris, she had been looked at a good deal by those who couldn't possibly understand her.

These people weren't looking at her. They were staring, with all the intensity of a starving Warg. Gilraen did actually know what one of those looked like. She had wandered off when she was about sixteen, and nearly been eaten by one. Thankfully, her cousin had rescued her that time. Idly, she wondered if it was from her that Aragorn had inherited his ability to get into danger with frightening regularity and ease.

But even these not-so-amusing thoughts could hold her attention for very long. The scrutiny of the Rohirrim was unnerving. Even the elves were tense, though to most they looked completely unperturbed. Living for so long in Imladris had its advantages when it came to reading the minute cues the elves gave. They had all moved closer to one another, and Glorfindel looked like he was deliberately keeping his hands away from the hilt of his sword.

"Where did our guide say that inn was again?" she asked. Glorfindel pulled back his hood, and Gilraen was forced to bite her lip as the female faces around her went from scared and belligerent to awed and wary. The twins, who had already had their hoods back, answered her.

"Just over here," they replied, speaking as one as they did when they were apprehensive. They now led the way, as Glorfindel unobtrusively took up the rear guard. The Eagle and Child definitely looked nice from the outside, with new-looking thatch, and warm wood, Gilraen mused. She hoped it would be comfortable, she was tired of traveling and living rough.

They left their mounts standing in the yard. The elven horses wouldn't stray, and Gilraen's mare would stay with them due to herd instinct. Anyone who tried to steal them would quickly learn of their mistake.

"Have they never seen elves before?" Gilraen muttered as the four entered the inn.

"Probably not," Glorfindel answered in an undertone, amused.

"It still doesn't mean they should eye us like we're their next meal!" Gilraen hissed back.

Glorfindel was still laughing softly when the innkeeper came over to them. He looked surprised, and slightly in awe to see three elves with a mortal woman in his inn, but he didn't look frightened or suspicious.

_That could be because he is one of the Dúnedain_, Gilraen reflected. She didn't recognize him, so he was probably from Gondor, not the North. But he was still clearly and strongly of the lineage of Númenor. Indeed, as with some of the purer lines, like her own, he bore a fair resemblance to the Twins. Of course, the Twins were clearly elves, and this man was…not.

Still, it was nice to see a fellow human who wasn't eyeing them warily.

"Welcome my lady, my lords, to my humble establishment! How can I help you?"

_Yes_, decided Gilraen, _I liked him_.

"We need three rooms and four baths, and stabling for four horses, if you can manage that," she said with a true, if slightly tired, smile. The innkeeper beamed at her.

"Of course!" he replied. "Would you like something to eat while your rooms are being prepared? We have some lovely stews, or roast chicken with vegetables, or some tender beef, along with freshly baked bread."

Gilraen's stomach informed her incessantly that, yes, she would like food that hadn't been cooked over a campfire.

"That sounds lovely," she replied, and with swift efficiency on the part of the staff, Gilraen and the Elves were soon sitting down to a delicious meal. Baths followed, and quickly Gilraen was feeling better than she had since her foresight had begun telling her Estel was in trouble. That nagging sense in the back of her mind was still there, but she wasn't helpless now. _I will find him_, she told herself as she brushed out her hair. She would find him, hug him like she would never let him go, then scold him for putting her through this.

Nodding firmly to herself, she set the brush down, and slipped between the sheets of her bed. _Elbereth, guard my son until I can reach him, _she prayed, as she slipped into the world of dreams.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Gilraen was up early, and eager to begin her hunt. Knowing that innkeepers often had the best information, she started over breakfast, tucked into a small corner of the main room. Alagon, as it turned out the innkeeper was named, was a wealth of information, as Gilraen soon learned. He was in Rohan because his wife, Leofhild, was Rohirric. They had met when Thengel and Morwen had returned to Rohan, and Alagon had decided that the Riddermark would be a good place to settle. They had several children, one a newborn son.<p>

"I'm actually in Rohan looking for my own son," Gilraen turned the conversation skillfully. "You haven't heard about one of the Dúnedain serving among the Éoreds, have you?"

"Well, there was that one, years ago now," Alagon said thoughtfully. "Went by Thorongil."

"That's him," Gilraen said instantly, though she had no previous knowledge of her son's pseudonym. It did, after all, combine elements of his parent's names.

"Well, your son did well here, then," Alagon commented. "A Marshal, respected by his men, in the confidence of Thengel King…"

Gilraen nodded. Her son had been born to be King, and it showed.

"Apparently, he said he was from the North, but you are as clearly of the Dúnedain as I am," Alagon said carefully, phrasing it as a question. Gilraen smiled ruefully.

"Simply because Arnor fell a millennium ago does not mean all of her people have disappeared," she said quietly. "There are not many of us, but we have not forgotten our heritage."

Alagon bowed his head in acceptance, uncharacteristically silent for a few moments. "I'm afraid there is not much more that I can tell you, Mistress Gilraen," he finally said. "After serving faithfully for a number of years, Thorongil resigned his commission, and disappeared. Nothing more has been heard of him, though there are a few rumors that he is serving in Gondor. Of course, most of those who believe that also believe he was born there."

Gilraen nodded absentmindedly. "Would there be anyone who would know for certain?" she asked. Alagon thought for a few moments.

"If Thorongil is serving in Gondor, they probably would have sent a missive to Thengel King, to inquire as to his character," Alagon said thoughtfully. "Of course, that isn't much help. Some of his former men might know, especially those in the higher ranks. You may be able to speak to them." Gilraen nodded.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, standing to leave. Alagon looked uncomfortable for a moment.

"Gilraen," he said quickly, "You are aware that there will be some…less than friendly people, who will be…unhelpful, due to…your travel companions?"

"You mean that most people are going to look at me like I'm possessed because I've been traveling with Elves?" Gilraen said bluntly. Alagon nodded contritely.

"Many believe the old superstitions about the Elves, and I'm afraid that most of Edoras will have heard about you in a negative light," he said apologetically. Gilraen sighed, then nodded.

"Well, it's a risk I'll take," she said. "I'm not going to stop looking for my son simply because people are prejudiced." Alagon bowed his head.

"Good luck then, Mistress," he said as she left the inn.

* * *

><p><strong>Ok, yes, it's been almost a year since I updated this. *winces* I'm afraid I've lost interest in this story. That being said, I have no intention of abandoning it. Unfinished stories are one of my pet peeves, and so I am going to finish this. But which would be preferable: me finishing the story before I update again, which might take another year, or just update when I finish another chapter...which also might take me a year? (though I really hope it doesn't) Review and let me know!<strong>


	4. Getting Information

A warning that people would be unlikely to help her didn't make being stone-walled any easier, Gilraen decided.

She knew all the tricks to keeping someone completely in the dark; after all, the Northern Dúnedain had been keeping the identities of the Heirs of Isildur a secret with fairly good success for the past thousand years. She _knew_ some of the people she was talking to had information about her son, and the fact that they were telling her nothing was beginning to drive her crazy–especially as her foresight was beginning to become more urgent. Whatever the danger Estel was in, it was getting worse.

"Anything?" she asked as the Twins quietly came in and sat down across from where she had been sitting with her head against the wall of the inn. Behind them dusk fell upon Edoras. Elladan and Elrohir shook their heads as one.

"Nothing," Elladan answered. "Of course, we always knew that the people here would be unlikely to speak to us."

"I know," Gilraen sighed. "I just wish they would speak to me, at least. We're running out of time." Elladan and Elrohir accepted that without question, long used to their father's foresight.

"Then what are we going to do?" Elrohir asked. Gilraen sighed again.

"There is one more lead that might be useful," she said, with slight reluctance. "But it's rather…unsavory. I don't particularly want to go alone, yet if I take you I will be unlikely to get results.

The Twins frowned, as Gilraen knew they would.

"I don't think…" Elrohir began, before Elladan cut him off, suddenly calm.

"So we follow you from a distance, keeping you within bow range, but far enough away that whomever you're meeting will not notice us," he said confidently. Elrohir glanced at his brother, and they had a swift, silent conversation.

"That would work," he agreed. "But as it was your idea, Elladan, you get to explain it to Glorfindel." Elladan's face dropped just a hair, and Gilraen kept her expression impassive. Glorfindel probably would not like this plan, but she honestly didn't see another option. She had to find her son, she had to…

Gilraen took a deep breath, calming herself. She would, no matter what it took, she vowed to herself.

A few hours later, just after the main gates of Edoras had closed, the threesome set out. A good distance both from Meduseld and the gates, it was the worst part of the city, and not one a lone woman should really visit at night. Of course, Gilraen mused as she did just that, she wasn't really alone. Both Elladan and Elrohir had spent considerable time in their grandparents' realm, learning from the archers of the Galadhrim, and both were deadly with their bows.

This part of the city was also the place that those who had been dishonorably discharged from the Éoreds gathered, if they didn't leave the city together. Gilraen was hoping that men who fit that description would not have the compulsion against talking to her that the rest of the city seemed to have.

Slightly lost in her thoughts, the odd glow to the left and the growing yells and commotion escaped her notice for a moment. When it did reach her awareness, she paused, then ran in that direction, knowing the Elves would follow her.

She quickly arrived at the scene of a fire, greedily spreading through the thatched roofs and wooden constructions that made up Edoras. Her breath caught as she noticed a small boy standing much too close to one such building that looked to be an tavern. Increasing her speed to a full run, she darted in a grabbed him, before moving to the relative safety across the street. A crash behind her made her turn, and Gilraen began to tremble as she watched the inn collapse in on itself, the fire whooshing out of the empty windows, while bits of the roof fell right where the child had been standing.

"Artair!" A woman's voice suddenly called, and the child in Gilraen's arms started.

"Mama!" he called, as a young-looking woman rushed over. Gilraen surrendered the child as the woman began to weep.

"Oh, thank you," she sobbed. "Our house is just over there," she pointed to one of the buildings on fire. "–and I was making sure that our neighbors, who often watch my son while I am at work had gotten out. I hadn't noticed he had wandered off, and if you hadn't seen him-!"

"But I did," Gilraen assured the still panicked woman. "And there's no use dwelling on what could have been. Why don't we come over here?"

She led the woman away from the fire a bit, away from all the commotion of burning buildings, and the people desperately trying to put it out before it spread, as Elladan and Elrohir melted from the shadows to help as well. Gilraen had the woman sit on an overturned horse trough, as she was trembling from her shock and loss.

"What's your name?" Gilraen asked gently.

"Nelda," the woman answered, still clinging tightly to her son. Gilraen continued to ask her everyday questions to help her calm down. It turned out that the young mother was a widow; her husband had been killed by Orcs. She had moved to Edoras on the kindness of her husband's commander, and had a place in Meduseld working as a chambermaid.

"You're the woman traveling with the Elves, looking for your son, aren't you?" Nelda finally asked, having calmed down quite a bit. Gilraen smiled wryly.

"I'm not surprised that everyone in Edoras has heard of me," she said dryly. "But yes, I am she." Nelda nodded, a bit hesitantly to Gilraen's eyes, but also not afraid.

"Has anyone helped you?" the Rohirric woman asked quietly. Gilraen shook her head, but said nothing, fearing that if she tried to answer she would start to rant and be unable to stop. Nelda took a deep breath, and seemed to come to a decision.

"Well, maybe I can," she said resolutely. "I owe you a great deal, and this is one way I can begin to repay you. What is your son's name?" Gilraen's heart rose.

"He went by Thorongil," Gilraen answered, unable to keep the sudden hope out of her voice. Nelda gaped at her.

"Thorongil?" she asked. "He's a legend!" Gilraen smiled wryly.

"I've heard a bit about his exploits here," she said, "But no one is willing to tell me anything that happened recently."

"He left the Riddermark years ago," Nelda explained. "But recently the King and Queen were speaking of him: Thengel King said that he had heard from his former Marshal. I will ask for you. Where are you staying?"

"The Eagle and Child," Gilraen replied trying to keep her excitement contained. "Oh, thank you, Nelda. You have no idea how much this means to me." Nelda smiled.

"I have some idea from the light in your eyes," she said. "I will send word as soon as I know something."

(Line Break)

A message arrived the next day, though it was not the simple note Gilraen had expected from Nelda, but a missive written on fine parchment. Her eyebrows rose as she read the letter.

"We are invited to Meduseld," she told the Elves. "All of us. Apparently Nelda spoke to the King about us, and Thengel and Morwen are requesting our presence."

"Well, if anyone know where Estel is, it is Thengel," Glorfindel said. "When does he wish to see us?"

The rest of the day was spent in preparation both to meet Thengel, and to leave Edoras, for Gilraen didn't want to waste any time once she knew where Aragorn was.

The next day, at about the eighth hour after sunrise, they headed up the hill towards Meduseld, where they were graciously welcomed by Thengel and Morwen. Morwen was Gondorian, and Thengel had spent many years there, and did not display the same suspicions towards the Elves that their subjects had.

Morwen looked slightly surprised when Gilraen entered, and during the conversation asked about her heritage.

"Many suspected Thorongil came from Gondor, for all that he claimed the North as his home," Morwen said. "You too, have the look of Númenor." Gilraen shrugged lightly.

"We both are of Númenórean decent, yes," she admitted. "Though Arnor fell a millennum ago, a few of her descendants still live in those lands."

"Are there really still Dúnedain in the North?" Morwen exclaimed. "Those of Gondor know nothing of them."

"We are not a great nation like Gondor or Rohan," Gilraen said, "Merely a simple people who live as farmers and hunters. Still, we have not yet forgotten our heritage."

"Your son certainly knew much of the old lore," Thengel commented. "He was fluent in Sindarin, and he knew Quenya as well, though he kept quiet as to how much he knew of that old tongue. I'm afraid many of my people look upon the Elves with suspicion. Sindarin, at least, is also spoken by those of Gondor. Of course, your son spoke with a different accent than those of Gondor do."

"My son has always been interested in the history of our people, as well as the other peoples who populate Middle-earth, including their languages. It's why he travelled here, to learn more of your culture and history," Gilraen answered. Thengel nodded.

"He certainly learned all he could when he was with us," Thengel said. "Then he disappeared for quite a number of years. Recently, he showed up again, this time in Gondor, and is serving there. I just received a letter from Ecthelion about him. He has been organizing a raid against the Corsairs of Umbar." Thengel smiled briefly. "He always was daring."

Gilraen held her breath briefly, then expelled it slowly. "Thank you, my lord," she said. "Knowing where he is lightens my heart a great deal. A mother never stops worrying for her children, it seems."

"Of course not," Morwen said. "It is only natural, after not hearing from you son in so long to try to discover his whereabouts."

"Will you continue on to Gondor, then?" Thengel asked. Gilraen nodded.

"I have come this far already; I have no intention of turning back now," she said firmly. Thengel laughed.

"I see Thorongil came by his determination honestly," he said. "I will write a letter of introduction to Ecthelion for you. It will ease your passage considerably."

"Thank you, Thengel King," Gilraen said formally, though her grateful glance spoke volumes. "My kindred shall not forget your kindness."

The next morning dawned clear and bright as Gilraen and the Elves left Edoras. Thengel, Morwen, Alagon, and Nelda had been nice, Gilraen thought, but she didn't regret leaving the rest. Hopefully, Minas Tirith would be more welcoming than Edoras had been, but Gilraen could care less at the moment. She was one step closer to finding her son.

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><p><strong>A month is better than a year, right? Right... Again, no idea when I'll update next. But hey, I've finally gotten them all out of Edoras. As always, please review!<strong>


	5. The City of Kings

**New chapter! Aren't you all thrilled?**

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><p>Gilraen stared up at the White City as it drew closer, partially concealed awe on her face. She'd heard the descriptions, even seen illustrations in old books of the City, along with Minas Ithil and Annúminas, but they didn't do justice to the city of Anárion, with its gleaming white walls. The farmlands of the Pelennor, spreading around the city like a skirt, were rich and prosperous, the citizens resolutely ignoring the darkness to the east.<p>

She was alone, as she didn't want the spectacle the Elves had caused in Edoras to be repeated here. The others waited for her in the forests on the northern slopes of Mount Mindolluin.

The Gate stood open, but Gilraen pulled her mare aside to stop before it, dismounting to speak to one of the soldiers stationed there.

"Pardon me, sir," she said. "I have a letter of introduction from Thengel King to Lord Ecthelion."

"Better speak to the captain, Mistress," he interrupted her kindly. "Captain Baranor, sir!" the guard called. "Lady here who needs to speak with you." Captain Baranor was a tall man of clear Dúnedain heritage, with a firm but kindly visage.

"How can I help you, Mistress?" he asked courteously.

"I have a letter of introduction from Thengel King to Lord Ecthelion, about a matter of great importance to me, sir," she informed him. "I was wondering who I should present it to, and how to go about seeking an audience with the Lord Steward." Baranor looked astonished for a moment, but quickly masked it and smiled.

"I can escort you to the Citadel," he said. "You can stay there as well, until you can meet with the Lord Steward."

"That would be most welcome, Captain," Gilraen said. "I thank you."

"Would you trust us to see to your mount, Mistress?" the captain then asked. "The stables in the upper levels are generally reserved for the message riders of the realm, but we have room to stable your mare in this circle. We would treat her as if she was one of our own horses."

"That is very generous of you, sir," Gilraen said. "I will accept gladly. Just let me see to my gear." Quickly, Gilraen unfastened the saddle-bags and packs she had with her–which Captain Baranor insisted carrying the majority of–and turned the reigns of her mare over to a stable boy.

As they climbed the long way up the City, Gilraen learned that her companion and his wife were from Lossarnach, and they hoped to return there someday. They also had a young son, who wanted to follow his father in becoming a Guard of the City. Children ran and played along the streets, but Gilraen could see that many of the houses were long abandoned. The higher they climbed, the more noticeable this became.

When they finally arrived on the Seventh Circle, Gilraen stopped, in awe again as she gazed at the White Tree.

"Dead though it may be, I never thought I would behold the scion of Telperion," Gilraen murmured.

"Aye, so we revere and guard it still," Baranor answered her quietly.

Gilraen's breath caught as she suddenly had a vision of a slender sapling growing where the dead tree now stood. _May it be so,_ her heart whispered. _May hope come to fruition, and this place once again have life. _Gilraen shook off her thoughts, and followed Baranor into the Citadel.

Faster than Gilraen thought possible, the Herald had been found, her letter given to him with his promise to deliver it. She bid farewell to Captain Baranor, and was now in the hands of a maid to be shown a suite of rooms she could stay in until she could met Ecthelion.

The maid's name was Neleth, and while she had the grey eyes common to the Dúnedain, her curly hair was a coppery color. She was also quite cheerful, greeting those servants whom they passed on their route.

"Here you are, Mistress," Neleth finally said, opening a door. "This is a suite with a small sitting room, a bedroom, and a water closet."

"That sounds wonderful," Gilraen said. "The journey here from Edoras wasn't long or difficult, but a bed will certainly be welcome!"

"And perhaps a warm bath to soothe away the strain of travel?" Neleth asked with a smile. At Gilraen's acceptance, she went to draw one. While she waited, Gilraen carefully stowed a few items she did not want anyone to see, and from the deepest recesses of her pack pulled out the one fancy dress she had brought.

"There you are, Mistress Gilraen," Neleth said cheerfully. "Do you have any clothes you wish me to take to the laundries? They would be ready for you by tomorrow morning."

"Yes, thank you," Gilraen said. "Also, could you find someone who could care for this?" she asked, indicating the dress. "I think it should be appropriate for meeting the Steward."

"Oh yes, Mistress, it is beautiful!" Neleth said. "Time over boiling water should release the wrinkles. The laundresses will take good care of it."

"Thank you, Neleth," Gilraen said, before digging out a clean change of clothing and heading off to her bath.

That night Gilraen was smiling as she slipped into a comfortable bed. Neleth had been most attentive after returning with Gilraen's dress, wrinkle-free. The maid had also taught Gilraen some of the etiquette of the court, which she would need when she met Ecthelion the next day. She was relieved that she would not have to wait to meet with the Steward. Tomorrow, perhaps, she would finally find her son. Holding on to that optimistic thought, she slipped into the realm of dreams.

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><p>The next morning, Gilraen stood staring at her appearance in the mirror as she carefully fixed her hair in a series of braids that was appropriate for her status. She was already wearing the dress Neleth had taken yesterday to be pressed; it was of Elven make, and both beautiful and comfortable.<p>

Finishing her hair, she followed a young page to where she was to meet Ecthelion. She was shown to what seemed to be a council room, with a long oval table, though it was only occupied by two people.

"Mistress Gilraen, my Lord Ecthelion, Lord Denethor," the page announced. The younger turned around from where he had been standing, and the older stood up, a welcoming smile on his face. Gilraen bowed, not as Neleth had instructed her, but as a Lady greeting someone of equal rank. She saw surprise and annoyance flash across Denethor's face, but Ecthelion's stayed relaxed. He dismissed the page, then turned to Gilraen.

"Welcome to Minas Tirith, Mistress Gilraen," Ecthelion said warmly. "Please, take a seat."

"Thank you, Lord Ecthelion," Gilraen replied pleasantly as she sat.

"My son, Denethor," Ecthelion completed the introductions as Denethor and Gilraen nodded politely to each other.

"The letter you brought from Thengel says you are looking for your son Thorongil," Ecthelion continued. Gilraen nodded.

"Yes, I am," she said. "He has been away long without news, and I grew concerned about him."

"Ah yes, I can see why. He does sometimes get himself into trouble, doesn't he? Though, to be fair, he generally gets himself back out of it again. Just managed a raid against the Corsairs of Umbar, in their own shipyards! The original plan went completely to pieces, according to his report, and they ended up fighting on the deck-yards. Thorongil managed to kill the Harbor Master, and get his troops back out, all without loosing a ship. The best captain I have."

As Ecthelion spoke, Gilraen surreptitiously studied Denethor. Annoyance could be seen on his face: well hidden, but Gilraen had learned to read the even less visible facial clues the Elves gave. It seemed that the Steward's Heir did not like his father's praise of Thorongil.

"So where is he now, my lord?" Gilraen asked slowly, as Ecthelion's almost rambling speech came to an uncomfortable end. Ecthelion looked sad and uneasy; he didn't answer. Denethor sighed.

"Mistress Gilraen, I grieve I must give you this news, but your son was a part of a small scouting party in Southern Ithilien that was ambushed by Orcs out of Minas Morgul," Denethor said, quietly but sincerely. "Another party was sent, but too late. All were dead save your son, who was from all appearances taken captive."

"And nothing more was done?" Gilraen asked numbly. Denethor shook his head.

"They were heading back to Minas Morgul, over contested ground. Our patrols do not venture that way without a clear reward for their risk; it is too dangerous." He paused. "I am sorry to say, Mistress, that your son is dead, or will soon be that way. There is nothing more that can be done."

Gilraen was still, trying to come to terms with what she had been told. Then she drew herself up. For a moment, she looked like the queen she would have been, had fate been different.

"I have already lost my husband to those monsters," she said, grief and anger warring in her voice. "I will not lose my son."

With that, she turned and left, back straight, head held high. She retraced her steps to the guest suite she had stayed in the night before, finding Neleth still there. Though she was surprised, Neleth helped her swiftly change into traveling clothes and re-pack all her gear. Within a mark's time she was exiting the city her son might someday call home.

If she could find him.

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><p><strong>And now for some excellent news, I've finally finished writing this story! One more chapter and an epilogue: they should be along before Friday!<strong>


	6. Finding Hope

Ecthelion drummed his fingers anxiously on the arms of his chair. He could not get Lady Gilraen out of his mind. She had not given herself such a title, of course, and his son would insist on his calling her 'Mistress', but there was no doubt in Ecthelion's mind that she was a Lady. And perhaps, if his suspicions about Thorongil were correct, she was even more than that.

Ecthelion sighed. If Thorongil was the heir of Isildur, the knowledge that the captain's father was dead changed things for Ecthelion. He'd assumed that if his best captain was indeed Isildur's heir, then his father was still living and somewhere safe, for Thorongil to be allowed to do what he was doing. For his mother to declare that her husband was dead...and Thorongil had said he was an only child. Ecthelion made up his mind. Denethor would have a fit, but he was going to help her.

Sneaking out of the city was almost obscenely easy. As was casually loitering around the main gate until Gilraen exited with her horse, and then discreetly following her with the gelding he'd acquired from among the horses kept for the message riders. All things to tell his son, and perhaps the intelligence gathered would lessen Denethor's annoyance when he found out what his father had done. He was surprised when she exited the Rammas Echor to the north. She then headed west, into the edge of the forest that grew on the slopes of Mount Mindolluin. Frowning curiously, he followed her, remembering the training he'd received when he'd served with the Rangers when he'd been a young man.

She moved a good pace into the forest, then stopped, looking for all the world as if she was waiting for someone or something. Ecthelion was hard pressed not to gasp as a pair of identical twins dropped from the trees. They were elves, and the Steward wondered at that, while also adding it to his growing list of reasons Thorongil might be the heir of Isildur. He watched as Gilraen and the pair exchanged greetings.

"You've been followed," one of the twins suddenly murmured. Gilraen nodded.

"I know," she said simply. Ecthelion stiffened in surprise. It may have been many years since he had been among the troops, but he remembered how to stalk something or someone, and he had felt he'd done a decent job of it. This woman had fairly keen senses, which were displayed as she turned and faced approximately where he was hidden.

"Do you mind coming out, my lord?" she asked, her voice cool, giving nothing away. Ecthelion did so, sweeping back the hood of his cloak as he did.

"I apologize for following you, lady," he said. "But it is dangerous for you to travel alone if you are seeking your son; I had no idea of your escort." She stared at him for a second, then a small smile softened her face.

"No, it is quite alright," she said. "I thank you for your concern." She turned, and began to make introductions.

"These are Elladan and Elrohir, twins sons of Lord Elrond Eärendilion," she said, as the twins each nodded graciously at their names. "Elladan, Elrohir, this is Ecthelion, Lord Steward of Gondor."

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Elladan said smoothly.

"Likewise," Ecthelion said. He got the feeling that the elves were finding something highly entertaining. "Is something amusing, my lord?"

Elrohir shook his head. "Not so much amusing as ironic, my lord," he explained. "You see, the fourth member of our company…" he trailed off, as both he and his brother turned to look into the thicker underbrush.

"Is on his way." Elrohir finished, though that was obviously not what he had originally intended to say. A faint rustling in the underbrush was the only warning Ecthelion had before a tall figure emerged.

Ecthelion's first impression was of gold and light, as the newcomer's hair was truly golden, and–was he faintly shining? Certainly his eyes were brighter than any Ecthelion had ever seen.

"Lord Ecthelion, this is Lord Glorfindel, currently captain of our father's forces, as he has been for the last Age and a half," Elrohir took the introductions this time, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. "Glorfindel, this is Lord Ecthelion, Steward of Gondor."

Ecthelion now understood the irony, and briefly wondered what Glorfindel would think of the fact his father had been named Turgon. Of course, it was entirely possible he knew. He had no idea how closely the elves followed the Stewards of Gondor.

"It is an honor, my Lord Glorfindel," Ecthelion said smoothly.

"The honor is mine, Lord Ecthelion," Glorfindel replied with a smile. Then the moment turned serious. "So what do we know?"

"Estel was taken captive by an Orc pack just under a week ago," Gilraen said softly. The faces of the elves grew grim.

"Our scouts believe that the troop which took him is headed for Minas Morgul." Ecthelion took over. "It is large, and we do not have the forces in the area to deal with them. My son is in charge of the forces of Gondor, and he…" Ecthelion paused. How to delicately say that Denethor was not willing to risk men's lives over the uncertain fate of his rival?

"Does not feel like he can risk the lives of Gondor's troops over the fate of one man," Gilraen finished for him, voice quiet but not condemning, something Ecthelion was grateful for.

"So we're going to go get him?" Elladan asked, as if the answer was a given yes. Gilraen nodded.

"Of course," she said. "Lord Ecthelion, we must depart now, for I will not leave my son in the hands of those monsters any longer than I must. But I thank you for your help and concern, and I will always remember you fondly."

"I am no longer young, even by the standards of the Dúnedain, and will probably not live to see another decade," Ecthelion said bluntly. "But I will aid you as I can, if you will have me. I can get you across the bridges of Osgiliath without too many questions being asked."

"That would be a great help," Gilraen said sincerely. "I was dreading the thought of trying to swim the Anduin should the need arise." Her dry tone set Ecthelion chuckling. He could see where his favorite captain had gotten his wry sense of humor.

"Well, I am relieved to tell you that shall not be necessary," he said. "Though we should hurry if the scouts were correct that the Orc troop who took your son is headed for Minas Morgul. How soon can you leave?"

"Immediately," Elladan assured the Steward. "Our horses are just within the trees."

Elrohir proved his brother's words by leading out three beautiful animals, to join Gilraen's mare. The five moved quickly to the edge of the woods, where they found Ecthelion's gelding tethered where he'd left it, and mounted up. Ecthelion decided to take them around the outside of the Rammas Echor, rather than taking them through the Pelennor, where their presence would be more easily noticed. Ecthelion frowned as he rode, looking at the wall. It was in poor repair. Something else to tell his son about, perhaps. If ever there was a serious threat of war from Mordor, it would need to be repaired.

Ecthelion led them to a small bridge that was only lightly guarded. Indeed, the soldiers there were under orders to destroy it–rather than defend it– if any enemy should seek to cross it. It did not take much to order the soldiers to let them cross, and an agreement from the men to keep their silence required little more. The most difficult part of the whole affair was convincing their commander that the Steward was there of his own free will.

Quickly, however, they were in Ithilien, heading south.

"We will want to catch the Orc troop before they reach Minas Morgul," Elladan murmured. "Even though we do have someone with us who is proven capable of holding his own against the Nine, I would rather not risk it."

"Just because they Nine fear me doesn't mean storming Minas Morgul will be possible without a direct intervention of the Valar," Glorfindel retorted. "If the Orcs who took Estel have already gained the City, we will be at an impasse, for there is no way for us to enter without being noticed."

"Then we must find them before they get there," Gilraen said, steel in her voice. The others nodded, and conversation ceased as they focused on guiding their horses as swiftly and safely as possible.

As Gilraen would later say, luck, or the favor of the Valar, was with them. On the second day, around noon, they found the Orc pack. They creatures were resting and hiding from the light of the day, and were less than a night's march from Minas Morgul, in a deeply shaded clearing on the shoulder of the Mountains of Shadow.

This wasn't exceptionally large as organized Orc packs went, only about twenty five to thirty members, and Gilraen suspected that its lack of size was partially due to the weapons of her son and his companions. Taking to the trees, the twins quickly confirmed that Aragorn was the human prisoner that could be seen among them. Gilraen was afraid to ask about his condition, given their steely eyes and expressions.

These Orcs were about to meet the elven twins who had made it their mission to eradicate as many of the goblin kind as they could, and Gilraen didn't spare a moment's sympathy for them as she carefully strung her bow. She didn't let the elves see when she also pulled out a worn sheath from where she had hidden it throughout their journeys, and fastened it at her side, hidden under her cloak.

The plan they devised was risky but workable. They would have to cut into the Orcs until they reached Aragorn, and then pull back so they would not be surrounded. But rescuing Estel needed to take place quickly, or the Orcs would simply cut his throat rather than allow him to be rescued. Once Aragorn was out, an attempt would be made to kill all of the Orcs rather than allow them to escape. They didn't want word reaching Mordor of a man rescued by elves. It would simply be too suspicious, and something to be avoided if at all possible.

The first part of the plan worked only because most of the Orcs were asleep. The elves melted quickly out of the trees beside the sentry nearest Aragorn, and cut their way through the Orcs to the human. Indeed, the hardest part of getting in was the Twins automatic urge to kill every sleeping Orc in their path.

Getting out with the rather confused Aragorn was somewhat more difficult: but they managed that, too, handing him off to Gilraen where she waited at the edge of the clearing, and turned to begin the work of eliminating the rest of the horde. Ecthelion was working from the edges, keeping the orcs from encircling them via the easiest route. The other side, which Gilraen was covering with her bow, was near impassible, so for now she had a moment to spare for her son.

Aragorn was a mess. Gilraen couldn't see all of his injuries beneath the dried blood, mud, and filth, but at least he was standing upright, and that was a good sign.

"Naneth?" he questioned softly. "Is this a dream?"

"No, Estel," Gilraen said, with effort keeping her voice from shaking. "I'm really here. As are your brothers, Glorfindel, and Lord Ecthelion." Aragorn didn't seem to hear her.

"I've dreamt about you so much," he said in that same soft tone. "But never here. You were always back in Rivendell, or in the Angle." He smiled briefly. "Perhaps I've finally gone mad."

"No, Estel, I'm really here," Gilraen assured her son, losing the battle with the quiver in her voice. "I promise. I would swear it, but I do believe Rivendell broke me of that habit." She held out her hand. "I'm real, my son." Hesitantly, Aragorn took it.

"It's not a dream?" he asked, belief beginning to dawn in his eyes.

"No, it's not," Gilraen said firmly. Aragorn smiled.

"You came? But how…" he trailed off.

"You are my son," Gilraen said simply. "I knew you were in trouble and needed my aid, and I came." Aragorn said nothing, but his smile grew at that.

"Now," Gilraen said briskly. "Perhaps you would like to aid your brothers and Glorfindel oin killing these foul creatures? We don't want them getting back to Minas Morgul with tales of a man rescued by elves." The smile abruptly left Aragorn's face.

"I don't have a weapon," he said softly. Gilraen pulled aside her cloak, and offered her son the blade she'd hidden there: the sheath containing the broken length of Narsil.

"Nana, I can't," Aragorn said brokenly. "I failed, and I led good men to their deaths. I cannot wield this blade. I do not have the strength to claim it, nor what it represents."

"Take it, Estel," Gilraen said, softly but fervently. "It is your right, your destiny. You _are_ strong enough, my son. You have hidden who you are for too long. Reclaim who you were born to be." Aragorn's face was torn.

"Naneth, I…" His eyes suddenly widened. "Look out!" he drew the broken blade, parrying the sword of an orc who had crept through the trees to emerge just behind Gilraen.

Gilraen, shocked at her own calmness, watched as her son threw himself into the fight. He was wise, and aware of his own weakness: as were his brothers, who quickly flanked him, their old ways of fighting together quickly coming back. Gilraen quickly fell back to where she'd left her bow, thankfully so far unused on this journey. She began to cover the fighters, picking off the Orcs she could without endangering her friends. She was a fair shot with her bow; she'd practiced quite a bit in Rivendell, as it gave her something to do other than endless embroidery. She had begun to learn archery as a girl, as many of the northern Dúnedain women did. There were simply too few men to leave the safety of the children solely in their hands.

The fight was truly decided by the elves, of course. Even the Morgul troop was no match for a reborn Balrog-slayer and the elven twins who had been waging war on the Orcs of the Misty Mountains for almost five hundred years. They killed most of the party, and Gilraen's arrows and the twins' throwing knives found the fleeing remainder: none of this troop would bring report of their prisoner to the City of the Witch-king.

"So you are the Heir of Isildur," Ecthelion said quietly, as weapons were superficially cleaned, and the scene of carnage left behind for cleaner lands.

Aragorn straightened as much as his battered body would allow before nodding slowly.

"Yes," he said simply.

"Then you could claim the throne of Gondor," Ecthelion said, still quietly. Aragorn shrugged.

"Perhaps," he allowed. "Though I am sure many would object, and quote the precedence of refusing Arvedui's claim as their argument. Even if I do someday make a claim, I will not do so now." Ecthelion was quiet for a time.

"I will not remain in Arda much longer, my friend, and–though you may not claim it–my liege. Since I began to suspect who and what you were, I had begun to hope that I would see a King in Gondor again before my life would end," Ecthelion finally said. Aragorn sighed.

"You would accept it. Your son would not," Aragorn said softly. "He would claim that I used your fondness of me to deceive you into accepting my claim. I would not see Gondor thrown into civil war because I was impolitic in when to announce my identity."

"I understand your reasoning, though little I like it," Ecthelion replied. He smiled sadly. "I suppose it is time for me to return to the City and try to appease my son's anger and worry over my disappearance."

"Know this, Ecthelion," Aragorn said seriously. "I will always remember your kindness and dedication. The Stewards have kept Gondor a strong nation, while the Northern Kingdom has long fallen. And for all our disagreements, your son will be an excellent Ruling Steward who will continue that legacy. You have much to be proud of." Slowly, Ecthelion smiled.

"And I thank you for that," he said sincerely, placing a gentle hand on Aragorn's shoulder. "I shall miss you. But before we part ways, I will see you over the bridges of Osgiliath, so your Lady mother does not have to worry about swimming the Anduin."

"I thank you for that, my lord!" Gilraen said with a laugh.

The party, now increased by one, crossed the Anduin over the same small bridge, Ecthelion pulling the soldiers aside for a brief lecture before returning to wish Aragorn and his family goodbye. He would be returning to the City by way of the Pelennor. After watching him go, Gilraen resolutely turned her mare northwest, and moved off, the others following her, Aragorn mounted with Elrohir. They only travelled for a few hours before the light began to fade; they soon stopped to set up camp, Elladan and Elrohir badgering Aragorn about his injuries.

"They are painful, but not serious, my brothers," Aragorn assured them. "The Orcs wished to ensure that I reached Minas Morgul reasonably intact." He shivered at that thought. Elladan, sitting next to him, immediately embraced him.

"It's over," he assured the man he still thought of as his little brother. "We got there in time."

"Yes, speaking of that, how did you know?" Aragorn said seriously, pushing his memories back into some corner of his head.

"Ada and your Naneth both had the feeling you were in trouble," Elladan told him. Aragorn turned to his mother with a grin.

"Were you pacing?" he asked. Gilraen raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I was until your brothers showed up. Then I was simply frantically trying to find you, and praying that I wasn't too late," she said simply. Aragorn got to his feet and walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her.

"I'm sorry I worried you," he said softly. Gilraen hugged him back, though not as hard as she wished. She didn't want to hurt him.

"You're safe, and almost in one piece," she said. "That's all that matters to me." Aragorn said nothing to that, simply held her more tightly. Gilraen was loth to let go, but finally forced herself to do so, turning Aragorn over to Elladan and Elrohir and telling them to see to his injuries no matter how he protested. That finished, the conversation deliberately stayed light, seeking to ease Aragorn's weary spirit with banter among family and friends.

"So, are we heading home the same way we came?" Elladan finally asked.

"I don't see why not," Glorfindel said, shrugging.

"Actually, I had hoped to visit Lothlórien on the way back," Aragorn said nonchalantly.

"You want to visit daernaneth's realm?" Elrohir asked, slightly surprised. "Well, I suppose you'd be safe there, assuming you don't go falling out of the mellyrn."

"I am fine with that as well, though I would ask you come home after that, my son," Gilraen said. "You have been far away from our people for too long. As for myself, I wish to return home by the gap of Rohan; I have no desire to cross the Misty Mountains."

"Well, then, we can escort Estel to Lórien, and you and Glorfindel can return through the Gap of Rohan," Elladan said after a moment's thought.

"I would prefer it if you went with Naneth, my brothers," Aragorn said. "It will look better to any you come across, not to mention that the two of you carry your bows. I would prefer Naneth to be protected by ranged weapons should you be attacked."

"Not to mention Glorfindel and I won't have to worry about the trouble the three of you would be certain to find yourselves in should you travel alone," Gilraen said dryly.

"Very true!" Glorfindel laughed, ignoring the outraged looks the three gave him. "All of you attract trouble simply by existing. Though to be fair, you come by it honestly."

"One of these days, I'm going to get you to tell me just what Ada did to make you say that," Elrohir grumbled. Glorfindel ignored him, turning to Gilraen.

"Well, I shall trust that your presence will keep these two out of danger, and I shall do my best to keep your son reasonably in one piece."

"It will be more like the other way around, or has she not told you the story of the Warg?" Aragorn muttered. Gilraen ignored him.

"I shall do that, my friend, and will see you again when you return my miscreant of a son!" she laughed. Aragorn protested that, and the debate over that term lasted until they set the watches and slipped into sleep.

The next morning dawned bright as the company parted ways. Gilraen was struck with a moment of sad familiarity as she waved her son goodbye, but the knowledge that he was in good hands soon wiped it away. She turned her mare's head to the west, placing the rising sun behind her.

_Home_, she thought. _He is safe, and_ _I'm finally headed home_.


	7. Epilogue

Epilogue

Gilraen sighed, watching her son's retreating figure as he headed back out into the world. His news had been surprising, to say the least.

Betrothed. To Arwen Undómiel of all people. Perhaps Gilraen should have gone along with her son to Lothlórien…Glorfindel had, of course, accompanied him; however, as he had known Tuor and Idril he saw their potential match differently than did most of the Eldar. Perhaps that explained Lady Galadriel's seeming approval of the match as well. She would have known Beren and Lúthien, after all.

Still, unsurprisingly, Elrond had been less than thrilled with the prospect that he would lose his daughter as he had his brother. The conditions he had set made certain his prediction that Aragorn would rise higher than any human king since Elendil or fade with the remnant of his people, for Aragorn could not marry Arwen until he was king of both Gondor and Arnor, and Gilraen did not see a reunited kingdom coming to pass easily. It left her with the feeling that one way or the other, she would not see her grandchildren.

At least she had managed to extract a promise that he would stay here in the North unless he was truly needed elsewhere, as there was sure to be a shadow now between Rivendell and the Dúnedain over Arwen's decision. Aragorn had protested that there wouldn't be, but Gilraen knew that there would, even if neither side wished it.

Elrond would not be able to forget that his daughter had chosen a fate that would sunder her from him at least as long as Arda lasted, nor that Aragorn was the reason behind that choice. She knew it because, while she had forgiven her mother for agreeing to–and perhaps rushing–her marriage to Arathorn, (and while she knew that she would have grieved over Arathorn's death whether they married or not), knowing her mother had been thinking of the bloodline more than her still had shadowed their relationship.

Still, she was glad to be back. She did not regret going and seeing the world, seeing Minas Tirith, where–if all went well–her son would one day be crowned king, but she knew she would not leave her own home like that again. If he found himself in such trouble again, it would be Arwen's love (and perhaps her brothers' swords) that would sustain him. She had saved her son, yes, but not for herself. Now, she was giving him to Arwen, and really, the last thing Aragorn had needed her for was gone.

But she had known since he was two that she would slowly but surely give him up completely. But she, and the others in his life, had raised him well; he had grown into a competent, compassionate man, one who would do well if he indeed became King of the West.

"I think you would have been proud of him, Arathorn," Gilraen whispered softly. "I am."

There was really only one thing left for her to do.

_Dear Arwen,_

_I must admit I was surprised to hear Aragorn's news, but I am very happy for the both of you… _


End file.
